Eon
by Razer Athane
Summary: Through the grief, joy and curiosity of it all, we know how such a journey will end. -Oneshot-


Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's Note: My first time writing FFX! I entered this and another piece into a fanfic comp. Now that its over, I can post 'em. Enjoy!

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**EON**

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It is a strange thing to watch the summoner tell stories about a truth.

She tells him, her strange, 'sick' man, about how her Father would carry her on his shoulders. How he would tell her about the wonders of the world around them, and how it is his duty – and now hers – to protect it. About the journey that had been told to her through many voices, and now she is here on her own, exploring the land that she is to _save._

A pity that her Father's success was so temporary.

She finds him to be a fascinating thing, so different from the world she's been raised in, and conformed to. How he is so free to enjoy the world around him, a world he still doesn't truly understand; he's only just learnt that she is still going to die at the end of this journey and will not accept it.

She asks questions a lot, exploring him and what he knows. About his home, about what it was like so very long ago, and how he thinks he ended up here. And he will talk and talk and talk, but he never really _says__._ Maybe because he doesn't really know himself. Maybe because everything he thinks he knows isn't actually true.

It is a stranger thing to watch the dream tell stories about a lie.

He tells her, his awe-inspiring, special woman, about how his Father would always make him cry and feel weaker than he truly is. About how devastated his Mother was when his Father never returned home, and how sometimes, he would watch the horizon for her when she was unable to. About how he sees this exploration, through eyes that do not truly understand what he is helping to _save._

A pity his Father is what he is now.

He finds her to be strange, even amongst this stranger world, but he's curious and always willing to learn, even if he doesn't comprehend it completely. How she is – or was - so willing to bend to the concepts around her without question, to Yevon and its teachings; she doesn't even know that he is different in the worst kind of way, and he will not tell her.

He answers anything she asks, allowing himself to explore and be explored. About his home and the life he had there, and he would speak so often of blitzball. He still insists that he doesn't know how he ended up here, but in his eyes, it is apparent that he has a few theories, at least. What he thinks to be a lie is gradually turning out to be the truth, and it deeply, _deeply_ frightens him. As it should.

She often watches out for him, from the very beginning as he'd wander through the streets, blurting out inappropriate things to the believers. As they fight against fiends, and when he first successfully lands the Jecht Shot on one. As they'd explore Macalania Woods together in an effort to cheer themselves up and reinstate their belief not in the system, but in the cause. And more than anything on this tiring journey without a true happy ending, he makes her laugh. He is as bright as the sun.

Some tell her that he's nothing but a stupid boy, infected by Sin's toxins and not worth an iota of her time. The black mage looks away with a slight, knowing smirk, and yet seems uncomfortable. The Ronso is motionless and ever vigilant, always thinking and watching. The Al Bhed frets, for she knows what lies ahead and feels powerless.

She loves him.

In turn, he will always protect her, as a guardian should throughout such a pilgrimage, even though he really doesn't know what lies at the end. As the boat would violently rock on their way to Kilika, and beyond. As they'd wander through any Cloister of Trials and acquire what is at the very end. As that filthy, unsent Guado Maester tried to marry her. And more than anything, he likes to see her smile, and swears to himself that he will take her to his Zanarkand. She is as mysterious as the moon.

Most tell him that she is beyond him, a Summoner who is destined for great things. The other athlete often tries to talk him out of his feelings, but he's stubborn, and he can't help himself. The unsent swordsman is mostly quiet, though his gaze more often than not lingers into the past that he could not change, that he could truly do nothing about. The Al Bhed simply worries all the more.

He loves her.

But _we_ know how this will end.

Even as they climb the Ronso's sacred mountain, battling the vicious, bitter cold and the new truths, exploring every crevasse for a place to hide... they don't truly know anything. They may know that the summoner will die to push him away, and that of them all, he will sacrifice himself for naught. They may know that the aftermath of this journey, be what it may, will change them forever. But these small people truly do not know how it will... _end._

Even as her determination to bring down the abomination hardens, she doesn't know that she will bring about the Eternal Calm. Even as his uncertainty continues to plague him, he doesn't know that he will never be forgotten, and even return to Spira. They do not know about the division that will happen, the hatred towards Yevon, the mechanical beast from beneath Bevelle that will tremble and roar because of one, _sick, old, lost_ soul who refuses to let go.

There is still much to do, much to investigate. Much to learn about themselves, each other and the land on which they walk.

Though they continue. For his joy, for his belief. For her beauty, for her resolve.

Maybe they will be happy once the dream ends. One day, they will wake. All will be well.

But we do not dare say this.

We have watched them both for so long. From the quietest child running around the tiniest island, to the young adult walking into the grandstands with thousands of people _screaming_ his name. From the moment she chose her goal, to the moment we chose his for him. From serving her for when she could not stand, and for guiding him for when he does not know which path to take.

_We are so tired..._ our voices hurt. Our arms can no longer carry such a world, such a dream.

They reach the summit and look out to the crumbled remnants of the real Zanarkand below. The dream - his voice gets stuck in his throat as the final pieces of the lie crumble between his fingers and fade away. She sits up a little, curious about this world, and eager to explore, understand, and then continue with her journey until the deed is done. Until the very end.

Please... finish what we cannot.


End file.
